


A Couch for All Seasons

by cheese



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Other, POV Inanimate Object, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheese/pseuds/cheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life and times of one couch, and how she finally finds a home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Couch for All Seasons

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for summer pornathon 2013, challenge four: banging bedframes and slumbering sluts.

There once was a couch, and she was very, very lonely. 

Even though she lived with her cousin the futon, her second-cousin-twice-removed the bed and her grandfather ottoman in the used furniture store, something was missing. Her once-glowing leather had worn spots on the cushions, and the back sagged slightly. Her heart broke every time a pair of eyes barely glanced her way before moving on, usually walking out with someone better “for the back.”

The couch hadn’t always been lonely; she’d had friends back at the giant factory where she came from – other couches with endless patterns, shapes and sizes – her brothers and sisters. And then later once they’d waved each other off in giant shipping trucks, she’d had friends on the shiny display-room floor of the department store – a side(-kick) table, an art-nouveau lamp, and a carpet whose life mission was to get himself under her. Gross. Then she’d been bought by a young couple, just starting out, moving in together, full of hope and glee and joy as they hopped onto her and laughed, snuggling together before chasing after the salesman (George, who the couch had liked best of all, because he’d cared for her the most). 

The couch had spent a few good years with the young couple, proud of her place by the window in their small-but-cosy apartment. She’d loved feeling the sun on her skin in the summer, and the chill of frost through the window in the winter. 

The couple had used her well, they cuddled together and watched TV, read, hosted parties – or the aftermath thereof, a drunk guest or two sprawled out on top, clinging to her –, but most especially her memorable first night with them. They’d collapsed on her, full of warmth and lust, and had made love on top of her, bodies sticking to her new leather and each other, their moans of pleasure ringing throughout the empty room. They’d spent the night there later, letting her keep them safe. 

But the years wore on, and so did the couple’s relationship, and soon they were moving on and moving out and neither could stand to look at the couch so they’d sold her for shared profit, and here she was. 

Or there she’d been, with the ottoman, and the futon, and the bed, because they were still _there_ , inside, and she was here, outside. She got moved early morning, under a giant white tent, along with many of the other undesirables, and she knew where she was – the Clearance tent. It was the last stop for furniture like the couch, or that cherry wood table with cup rings ruining its perfect tabletop. From here it was either a home (if they were lucky) – or a landfill, because no one wanted them anymore. 

The couch gave up all hope.

“What about this one?” A voice nearby had brought the couch back to herself after hours or days of hopelessness. 

“It’s old and used.” Another voice chimed in, disdain clear.

“It’s cheap, Arthur. It’s exactly what we need.” The owner of the first voice – a young man with a dark fringe sticking out from underneath his beanie sat down on her. On the rightmost cushion, one arm falling over the back, the other rubbing along the armrest. “Come on, you have to at least try it out.”

The other man – Arthur – sighed, but joined the first, sitting on the most-worn middle cushion and wriggling around for a bit. “How do we know who had this before us, what they’ve done. Money isn’t an issue, Merlin-” 

The couch was getting offended, listening to him, and she was thankful when Merlin interrupted, “You _promised_ I’d pick and pay. And if it bothers you so much, we can upholster it, or I can get mum to make us a cover. Isn’t it comfy?”

Merlin slid his arm from the back to Arthur’s shoulders and pulled him closer, and the couch wanted them to never leave. She hoped as hard as she could, while Merlin used his own kind of convincing, kissing Arthur until they finally stood and Arthur said, “Okay, fine, we’ll take it.”

After that, the couch wasn’t lonely anymore, not with Arthur and Merlin (and the endless ways Merlin proved her usefulness to Arthur – with his hands and his mouth, and his cock), the nice woven cover she got, and especially not with the shedding monstrosity of a cat who insisted on sleeping on top of her day after day.


End file.
